


you are my story (my fame and my glory)

by glowinghorizons



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Slow Burn, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-08 00:04:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5475533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowinghorizons/pseuds/glowinghorizons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“If the air is toxic, we’re all dead anyway.” Bellamy points out, and the girl whips her head around to glare at him. He recognizes her vaguely from the Ark. Daughter of a council member, he’s sure. Her blue eyes blaze in defiance, and he has half a mind to say something controversial just to see that look in her eyes again, but thinks better of it.</p><p>“You have any better ideas?” Someone asks, and the blonde girl looks like she’s restraining herself from rolling her eyes.</p><p>“Hey, O?” Bellamy asks instead, cutting off whatever this princess-like girl was about to say, “how would you like to be the first person on the ground in a hundred years?”</p><p>His sister grins.</p><p>The blonde girl scowls.</p><p>OR;</p><p>AU re-telling of season one, where the hundred actually land on Mount Weather.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you are my story (my fame and my glory)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bitscrawford](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitscrawford/gifts).



> merry christmas! this is my secret santa fic gift to dailyridlys on tumblr! i hope you like it! i tried to make it pretty similar to what we already know from canon, and draw some parallels there. also, this is a wells!lives fic, because why not. based on this prompt: “what it would have been like if the delinquents had landed on mt. weather when they came down on the dropship. like, would they still have the same friendships? how would they integrate themselves into the mountain’s society? (would they??) how would each of them meet?”
> 
> the lyrics inset and for the title are from "a million years" by johnnyswim. 
> 
> this fic has alternating POVs, so hopefully there's no confusion there! POV changes are marked.

 

_**B.** _

 

The dropship hurtles through space, people screaming, and all Bellamy Blake can think about is how he almost died to get on this ship and how he’ll be damned if he’s going to die before they even get to the ground.

 

He hopes that Octavia is buckled in safe, that she’s not scared, that she’s being brave like he’s always known her to be. If he can’t protect her now, he hopes that he can make up for it when they ( _if_ they) land. 

 

The dropship lands with a jolt, and everything goes black. 

 

It feels like hours have gone by when Bellamy finally opens his eyes, and then Octavia is standing over him, worry lines creasing her brow. “Thank god,” she whispers, shutting her eyes tightly for a second, trying to get her bearings.

 

“We made it?” He croaks, and she laughs breathlessly.

 

“We made it, Bell.” Her face changes in a heartbeat and she slaps him hard on the arm. “You’re not supposed to be here, asshole,”

 

“Octavia—“

 

“Don’t open that door!” A loud voice cuts through their moment, and Octavia is jostled as a girl shoves her way past them, stopping in front of a boy with shaggy, dark hair, who has one hand on the lever. “The air could be toxic,” she argues.

 

“If the air is toxic, we’re all dead anyway.” Bellamy points out, and the girl whips her head around to glare at him. He recognizes her vaguely from the Ark. Daughter of a council member, he’s sure. Her blue eyes blaze in defiance, and he has half a mind to say something controversial just to see that look in her eyes again, but thinks better of it.

 

“You have any better ideas?” Someone asks, and the blonde girl looks like she’s restraining herself from rolling her eyes.

 

“Hey, O?” Bellamy asks instead, cutting off whatever this princess-like girl was about to say, “how would you like to be the first person on the ground in a hundred years?”

 

His sister grins.

 

The blonde girl scowls.

 

.

 

For the first few hours, everyone is caught up in the joy of being on real, solid ground. Earth. It’s been a pipe dream to so many people for so long, and Bellamy is caught up in the idea that his ancestors might have lived here, might have died here, fought battles here. When the sun begins to go down, people start realizing that they have to have somewhere to sleep, and they begin using tarps and parachutes as tents. 

 

The blonde girl who wanted to stay inside the dropship when they landed is trying to set up a shelter near his and Octavia’s, and he glances at her out of the corner of his eye. Wells Jaha is nearby, watching her with a sad, longing look on his face, and Bellamy rolls his eyes. “Legacies,” he mutters to himself, ignoring Octavia’s look. “These kids aren’t going to last a week with this crowd.”

 

“You don’t have a wristband,” Octavia says suddenly, and he glances at her, confused, pulling one end of a tarp tight around a branch, securing it with a length of rope he scrounged up from inside the dropship. He and Octavia have a tent now, sort of, and he hopes its enough to keep them dry and warm at night. 

 

“What wristband?” He asks, and looks down at her wrist. There’s a silver band there, and he frowns. 

 

“They put it on us when they put us on the dropship.”

 

At closer inspection, Bellamy’s blood begins to boil when he sees it’s literally _fused_ to her skin. He can see where she has two small puncture marks, and he grits his teeth. “They’re using them to monitor you,” he says, brows furrowing. “Jesus. This is all some kind of sick experiment to them.”

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“The council! They’re using these wristbands to check and see if anyone’s died yet.” Bellamy’s voice carries in his anger, and soon there’s a small crowd forming around them, inspecting their own wrists, eyes wide with worry. “They’re using us as guinea pigs. They want to see if anyone gets radiation poisoning.” 

 

“Maybe they’re worried about if we actually stay alive,” a sarcastic voice from his left chimes in, and he looks over to see the blonde girl. She looks surprised at herself, like she didn’t mean to actually say that out loud, but he turns to face her anyway, arms crossing over his chest.

 

“Easy for you to say, Princess,” he practically sneers, “It’s your people who want to make sure you’re alive, after all.”

 

She doesn’t say anything, but she stops trying to set up a shelter and glares at him, her eyes narrowed. He’s seen her around the Ark, he thinks. Probably when he was a cadet. He vaguely remembers a flash of blonde hair in the corridors of GoSci station, at the market on trade day. 

 

“Listen to me,” he says, raising his voice. “Those people,” he gestures towards the sky, “are not my people. Those people,” he pauses, “Those people floated my mother, and sent us all down here to die.” There’s a murmur of agreement from the crowd around them and the sound of it fills him up, makes him feel accepted for the first time in a long time. “Down here? We don’t have to live by their rules anymore.” Again, a small noise of agreement goes through the crowd. “We can do whatever we want, whenever we want. We can choose to do nothing, or build a damn castle if we want to. The point is, you don’t have to do anything the council wants you to do. Not anymore.”

 

“We can’t live without rules,” the girl pipes up, and Wells Jaha elbows her, hisses her name. Clarke.

 

“Says the only person the rules never applied to,” Octavia says. Bellamy doesn’t look at her, but he feels pride fill him when she continues, “I spent my entire life living under the _floor_. You’re not going to give me rules to live by, not anymore.”

 

“Someone has to be in charge,” Wells argues, and Bellamy laughs.

 

“And who should that be, huh? You?”

 

“If not him, it needs to be someone. We can’t just do ‘whatever we want’,” Clarke says, using air quotes. Bellamy’s teeth grind at her obvious dismissal of his words. “We don’t know anything about Earth. We don’t even know where we are. We have to stick together if we want to survive down here.”

 

“Because sticking together really worked so well for us up in space, right?” Another voice says, and Bellamy recognizes this one. Nathan Miller, son of a guard, arrested for thievery. He sees Clarke’s eyes widen at the sight of him and wonders if they used to be friends. The Millers weren’t wealthy or privileged, but David Miller was a guard, and a good one. 

 

“Miller—“ Clarke starts, but stops herself. 

 

“You didn’t stick by me when it mattered, so I don’t expect you to now,” Miller says, “but I’m tired of letting a Griffin decide how the rest of my life goes.”

 

The whole camp is silent, and Clarke folds her arms around her stomach, looking like she’s trying to keep herself together. Bellamy feels a small twinge of guilt at the look on her face, but shoves it away. He doesn’t know what she did to get locked up, but as far as he’s concerned, on the ground she’s not any better than anyone else. Not anymore.

 

.

.

.

.

 

_**C.** _

 

Clarke hates Earth.

 

It reminds her of her Dad, and how much he would have loved it here, and it makes her hate it. It doesn’t help that Wells hasn’t left her side since they landed, and he keeps talking to her like nothing’s changed, like she hasn’t spent the entire last year in solitary, like it wasn’t his fault that her life was turned upside down.

 

Mostly, she hates Bellamy Blake.

 

Wells tells her about him, and the rest she knows from rumors. His mom had an illegal child, who spent her whole life hiding underneath the floor in their quarters. He was stripped of his rank as a cadet when they found her, and his mother was floated. She feels bad for him, knows somewhere deep down he’s taking his anger out at his lot in life on her, but she doesn’t care. He said it himself - what happened in space doesn’t matter anymore. They’re on the ground now, and she knows if they separate on the ground like they did on the Ark, there’s no way they’re going to survive.

 

She sees him over by a large bonfire someone started in the middle of camp, grasping Miller’s wrist, pulling his wristband off. There’s a small pile of them near the fire, and Clarke grimaces. She wants to cry when she remembers Miller’s face when he accused her of not caring about him anymore. She knew Miller on the Ark, practically grew up with him. His Dad, David, was stationed in Medical for as long as she can remember. When they were younger, Mr. Miller used to bring Nathan to work with him, and he and Clarke would draw pictures and play cops and robbers together. When they were teens, they drifted apart, and then he got arrested. She never thought she’d see him again, not after she got arrested herself.

 

Footsteps approach her, and when she looks up from her spot crouched on the ground, she’s surprised to see Bellamy there, smirking at her. “Not hungry, princess?”

 

She scowls, scrambles to her feet. She feels a twisted sense of satisfaction at the look of shock briefly visible on his face as she draws up to her full height (which isn't much, especially standing next to Bellamy). “You listen to me. The only way the Ark is going to think I’m dead is if I’m dead. Got it?”

 

That smirk reappears on his face and she wants to hit him. She wants to make him hurt like she hurts. She wants to force him to understand that her life hasn’t been all sunshine and rainbows. She knows it’s a lost cause. “Brave princess,” he says to her, and it almost sounds fond, but she knows better. 

 

“Clarke,” a voice interrupts them, and then Wells is there, a ration packet and cup of water in his hand. He thrusts them towards her. “Here. I figured you haven’t eaten.”

 

“You took off your wristband?” She hisses at him, and he at least has the decency to look sheepish. “You know what? No. I don’t care. Thanks for the food.” 

 

She takes the food from Wells and leaves, to where, she isn’t sure. She has to get away from him and that look in his eyes. The look that’s begging her to forgive him. She has to get away from it, because if she doesn’t she might let it sink in that she truly is alone on the ground. There’s no one here that she trusts, and she thinks it’s the loneliest she’s ever felt. Even when she was locked up, she never felt this alone.

 

.

.

.

.

 

**_**B.** _ **

 

In the morning, Bellamy wakes up Octavia and takes her with him to explore the woods around their makeshift camp. He’s conscious of the gun in his waistband, and on the lookout for large animals or anything that they could eat besides ration packs. He doesn’t really know how to kill an animal for food, but he figures someone in camp must. They head back to camp midday, and things are mostly the same. 

 

A lot of the smaller kids are still in their tents. He feels bad for them - separated from their families without a clue as to how they’re going to survive. He opens his mouth to say something to his sister when he hears shouting from the dropship. His feet carry him there almost without his permission, and he pulls back the flap to see Clarke and Wells standing there, Clarke nearly toe-to-toe with her friend, or whatever the hell Wells is to her. 

 

“Don’t you dare tell me you’re _sorry_ ,” she snaps, and Bellamy doesn’t want to say anything. He doesn’t want her to know he’s there, because she’ll turn on him next, and he’s not sure how much more shit he can take in two days.

 

“Clarke—“ Wells pleads, and Bellamy actually feels sorry for the guy. Apparently, hell hath no fury like Clarke Griffin scorned.

 

“My Dad is _dead_ , Wells!” Clarke shouts, and Bellamy feels the weight of her words like a punch to the chest. Octavia lets out a quiet noise next to him, and he knows she’s probably thinking about their mother, too. “And now you come in here and tell me it’s not your fault?” 

 

“Listen to me,” Wells says, and takes a step back from Clarke, trying to get his bearings. “I never… I would never have turned your Dad in. You know that, Clarke. He was more of a Dad to me than my own!”

 

“Why did he get floated, then? Why did your Dad _kill_ my Dad? His best friend? Why would he _do_ that?” Clarke sounds desperate, and Bellamy looks away, shooing Octavia out the door. He might be an asshole, but he knows a private conversation when he sees one. 

 

“Looks like the Princess isn’t as put together as we thought,” Octavia says, snorting as she saunters down the ramp back to the center of camp, Bellamy behind her. Bellamy tries to smile, tries to feel smug at the idea of one of the privileged feeling even a shred of what Bellamy felt when he lost his mother, but he can’t. All he can think about is the look of devastation on Clarke’s face when she accused Wells’ Dad of killing hers.

 

A few minutes later, Clarke storms out of the dropship, stopping when she sees everyone turn to look at her. She wipes her face hastily, meets Bellamy’s eyes briefly, before heading towards her tent. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Miller hesitate before going after her. 

 

_Good_ , he thinks, _let her become someone else’s problem._

 

He’s starting to not recognize the voice in his head. 

 

Later that night, two boys his sister’s age come tearing into the camp, breathing heavily. “We saw people in the woods,” one of them gasps, and Bellamy feels something like dread start to curl in his stomach. “They didn’t see us, but they were… they had _guns_ and uniforms… some type of military.” 

 

“That’s impossible,” Wells says, “There’s no one left after the cataclysm.

 

“You think I don’t know that?” The taller of the two, Jasper, he thinks, says. “Oh, god. Maybe they’re zombies.”

 

Bellamy rolls his eyes. “They’re not zombies.”

 

“How do you know? Maybe the radiation got to them!” 

 

“Zombies with uniforms and weapons? Come on.”

 

There’s a buzz in the camp after that, a general uneasiness that sweeps over all of them. At the fire that night, Bellamy tells them that tomorrow they should start building a wall. “We need to protect ourselves and until we figure out how we’re going to manage that, we need to be hidden.”

 

“A giant wall is probably the easiest way to be spotted,” a guy says, and Bellamy recognizes him as the one who Clarke stopped from opening the dropship hatch that first day. He doesn’t know his name, but he looks familiar in the way that everyone from Sector 17 looked — long-ish hair, dark eyes, smudges of dirt on their skin, bags under their eyes. 

 

“We’re too out in the open like this,” Bellamy argues, gesturing around them. The makeshift tents people have set up line the clearing that they’ve managed to make into a camp, but he doesn’t like the idea of being exposed to the woods. If there really are people out there in the woods, they could get in and no one would see them coming. “We need to do something to keep ourselves protected. If not from people, then who knows what kind of animals are out there. They could get inside, eat the rations, who knows.”

 

“Those people are probably from Mount Weather,” another voice says, and it’s Clarke. She looks exhausted, her eyes still rimmed with red, but she’s not crying anymore. She looks determined. “That’s what Chancellor Jaha said. There was an old army base that the government used during the war. Maybe they survived.”

 

“How are we supposed to go up against an army?” Someone asks, and everyone falls quiet.

 

“What if they just want to help us?” The guy from earlier, Finn, he learns, asks. “How do we know they want to hurt us?”

 

“The guns sort of gave it away,” Jasper deadpans, and Monty elbows him. 

 

“We should scout the area tomorrow after we build some kind of wall,” Bellamy says. “See if we can find any evidence of a city, or people.”

 

No one says anything after that, and Bellamy locks eyes with Clarke across the fire. Her face is devoid of any emotion, but something flickers in her eyes when she looks at him. It’s gone too soon for him to figure out what it means, and then she’s gone too, headed back towards her tent. People start to split up into groups, eating and talking around the fire. Bellamy watches as Monty and Jasper approach Octavia, offering her a ration pack, and when she smiles at them, he can’t even be mad at the obvious interest in Jasper’s face. 

 

“They’re harmless,” Miller’s voice sounds, and he sits next to Bellamy. “They had cells next to mine in the Skybox. I think they were arrested for smoking too much weed or something,” he says, and Bellamy snorts.

 

“You know Clarke and Wells,” Bellamy says, but it’s also a question.

 

“I _knew_ Clarke.” Miller corrects him, looking bitter. “We grew up together. Had classes together, that sort of thing. We were never really friends.” Miller rips open his packet of rations, finding some nuts and dried fruit inside. He cracks the shell of one of the nuts on a rock and pops it in his mouth, chewing loudly.

 

“And Jaha?”

 

Miller swallows, “I knew him, being around Clarke. He’s not as bad as his Dad.”

 

Another mention of the Chancellor sets guilt brewing in Bellamy's stomach. He thinks about the look of surprise on the man's face as Bellamy took the shot, and how his hands only shook a little as he shoved his gun in his waistband and passed Shumway to get on the dropship.

 

Bellamy finally asks the question that’s been eating at him, “What happened with them?”

 

Miller shakes his head, “It’s not my place. Look, man. I… If you think you can figure out how we’re all going to survive down here, then I’m with you. You should know… as angry as I am with Clarke’s mom for not… well, it doesn’t matter. The point is, Clarke’s been through some shit. She spent a year in solitary before we all got sent down here.”

 

“If you’re trying to make me feel bad—“

 

Miller holds up a hand, “I’m not. I’m just saying that she’s not like her Mom, not really. People will listen to her. They already listen to you, but I think it’s mostly because you scare them.” He smirks, so Bellamy knows he’s not entirely serious, but there’s truth in what he’s saying. He’s seen the way the younger kids look at him. “You might need a good cop to your bad cop. That’s all I’m saying.”

 

He leaves then, and Bellamy glances around at all the kids. They got sent down here without a choice, but they finally have an opportunity to make something of themselves, to have a life. It won’t be easy, but he knows he can’t do it alone. He doesn’t like it, but he knows Miller is right. As much as he’s tempted to just take his sister and get as far away from here as he can, if the Ark stays in space, then this could work. They could have a life. Friends. A family. 

 

He sighs. 

 

.

.

.

.

 

_**C.** _

 

The next week goes by in a blur of activity. They literally chop down trees and start building a wall, one that goes all the way around the entire camp. It’s hard, tiring work, but everyone pitches in, and Clarke starts to think that they can _do_ this. They can survive. 

 

It’s gotten out somehow that she was an intern in Medical on the Ark, and so when injuries start coming in because of the wall, she sets up shop in the dropship. There were a few medical kits supplied to them, but it’s nothing special, and not nearly enough for a hundred kids. She does what she can - she stitches up small wounds, puts bandages on scrapes, and finds out that Monty knows how to make moonshine. She recruits him to make some for her to use as a disinfectant. He takes to it immediately, he and Jasper working together with some scraps and other metal objects to make a still in one of the empty tents. 

 

Bellamy, Murphy, Finn and a few of the other older kids have been out scouting the area for the last hour and so Clarke isn’t surprised when she hears a commotion coming from the main area of the camp. The boys are probably back, she thinks, but is surprised when the flap of the dropship bursts open, and Bellamy and Miller stagger in, half-dragging someone in between one of them. Clarke gasps when she recognizes Atom, a boy her age. 

 

“What happened?” She demands, and Bellamy shoves some supplies off the large metal counter in the dropship that Clarke has been using as an exam table. He and Miller get Atom up and onto it, and Clarke can hear how shaky and shallow his breathing is. “ _Bellamy_!” She hisses, and he meets her eyes, the panic in them a look that Clarke isn’t used to seeing on him.

 

“He was shot,” he says simply, and Clarke’s stomach plummets. 

 

“With what? By who?” 

 

“Clarke, there’s no time,” Miller says, “Can you fix it?”

 

“I.. I…” Clarke stutters, trying in vain to see where the wound is on Atom’s side. “I don’t know.” 

 

“ _Try_ ,” Miller urges. 

 

“Hand me that moonshine,” Clarke says, and holds out her hand. She doesn’t see which one of them hands it to her, but she tears a hole in Atom’s shirt hastily, dumping moonshine on the spot in his abdomen where she can see the wound. The moonshine makes Atom writhe under her hands, and Bellamy holds him down. “Hold him steady,” she says, and when she gets a better look at the wound, her heart sinks. The bullet is lodged inside him, and she doesn’t have the tools to get it out. 

 

“ _Clarke_ ,” Bellamy says, a demand and a plea all at once, and it startles her, hearing him call her by her name instead of the nickname he’s adopted. She realizes she’s been frozen, and when she glances back up at Bellamy and Miller’s expectant faces, her throat tightens. She shakes her head, silently telling them that there’s nothing she can do. She can try to end it, quickly, or lessen his pain, but that’s it. 

 

“I… I’ll keep everyone out,” Miller says. He exits the dropship without a glance backwards, and Clarke shuts her eyes tight, taking a deep breath. 

 

“K-kill… me…” Atom croaks suddenly, and Clarke wants to cry. She can’t, though, she has to stay strong. She has to give this boy what he needs, and what he needs is to stop suffering.

 

“I need your knife,” she says softly to Bellamy, who is taking in the scene with weary, calculating eyes. 

 

He hands it to her silently, and quietly, so, so quietly, she begins to hum. It’s a song she’s heard her mother sing, hum and murmur to patients, mostly the ones who have nothing left. A song of peace, of forgiveness, of acceptance. She hums it quietly, and slowly thrusts the knife into Atom’s neck. He sighs, almost a relieved sound, and Clarke blinks back tears. He takes his final, shaky breaths, and then there’s nothing.

 

She stands there, not quite believing what just happened, and Bellamy doesn’t say a word. He just looks at Atom, and then at her, and lets out a shaky sigh. 

 

“We— we should bury him,” Clarke says, “Somewhere outside the wall.”

 

“Yeah,” Bellamy says hoarsely, “ _shit,_ ” he curses, and when she meets his eyes, he’s looking at her with such a strange expression. He looks… he looks almost in awe of her, and it makes her uncomfortable, makes her shift on her feet. He starts to leave, and Clarke is rooted to her spot. Before he gets to the doorway, he stops. “You did good, princess.” He tells her, and if she didn’t know better, she would say there’s a different tone in the way he calls her ‘princess’ now. 

 

.

 

In the morning, they have a small funeral. It’s not much — they scrounge up some flowers, and the older boys dig a grave. Octavia cries, and Clarke holds the girl’s hand as they stand next to the grave when Atom is lowered into it. Wells stands on her other side, and his gaze doesn’t leave her when Miller squeezes her shoulder as he passes by.

 

“He asked me to kill him,” Clarke tells Wells afterwards. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t save him.”

 

“You can’t save everyone, Clarke,” Wells tells her, and he sounds so sympathetic, she almost forgets how angry she is with him. 

 

“Bellamy!” She calls, ignoring whatever Wells was going to say next, catching up to Bellamy as he walks back inside the gates. “Bellamy,” she says again when she gets closer, and he turns to face her, one eyebrow quirking. 

 

“We need to set up a guard system,” he says as a greeting, and she stops short. She had been thinking the same thing. “I was a cadet - I can train them in basic self defense and teach them how to use a knife. We need to have a patrol. There are people out there who want to hurt us.”

 

Clarke nods. “Good idea. Miller… Miller should help. His Dad is a guard. People will listen to him.”

 

Bellamy stares at her until she fidgets again, and she can’t take it. “What?” she snaps at him, and he shakes his head, smirking.

 

“Nothing, princess. I just never thought I’d see the day that you and I would agree.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

Bellamy chuckles, but quickly sobers. "I need to tell you something," he says suddenly, turning to face her, a look of urgency on his face. "It's how I got on the dropship. How I got down here."

 

"It doesn't matter anymore--"

 

"Yes it does!" Bellamy interrupts her. "I... I shot Jaha." 

 

Clarke feels her blood run cold. "You... he's... he's dead?"

 

"I don't know," Bellamy says, and Clarke thinks about all the times she's been yelling at Wells, and blaming him for her Dad, and he doesn't even know that his Dad could be... that  _Bellamy_... she stops thinking. She doesn't even know what to think. 

 

"I did what I had to do to protect my sister. I was... I was bribed into it by a guard. Shumway. I didn't..." He runs a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated that he couldn't put into words what was going through his head. Clarke has always found it hard to tell what Bellamy was thinking, but now she doesn't have a clue. 

 

"You have to tell Wells." Clarke chokes out. "He... he deserves to know that..."

 

"I... I will. Just not now. Not when we have to deal with... with this." He glances over at Atom's grave, and Clarke can see the remorse clear on his face. 

 

Later she'll look back on this moment and remember it as the first time she thought that Bellamy Blake was a decent person. If he wasn't, he could have kept his secret from everyone, and especially from her, but he didn't. He told the truth, and that has to count for something.

 

.

.

.

.

 

_**B.** _

 

They have been on the ground for a month today, according to the tally marks someone has taken to scratching into the side of the dropship. Bellamy walks across the camp, watching as Miller leads a few of the older kids in training. It’s been going well. They’re eager to learn, and Bellamy thinks it’s mostly due to the fact that they’re all relatively the same age. It’s easier to take advice frome someone who isn’t forcing you to learn. Bellamy has instructed them that they have to learn self defense and how to use a weapon if they want to be on the patrol. It’s imperative to them all staying alive, especially since they still don’t know what they’re up against.

 

He thinks about the day they lost Atom a lot. It’s the day the delinquents finally realized that they weren’t safe, that they had to work together to survive. Bellamy and Clarke have been fighting a lot less in recent days, and it’s nice, to have someone to shoulder the burden with. He wouldn’t call them friends, but he wouldn’t say they’re enemies, either. Whatever his personal bias against GoSci is, he’s realized now that it doesn’t matter on the ground.

 

Bellamy is making his way toward the dropship to see how things are going in Medical when he hears his sister laugh. It’s louder than he’s ever heard it, and he strains his eyes trying to spot her from across the camp. His eyes land on her near the fire that they’ve always got going now. She’s standing with Clarke, and they’re both smiling, laughing, nearly bent over as they laugh. He’s never seen a smile like that on Clarke’s face, and he’s momentarily mesmerized by the long line of her neck as she throws her head back as she laughs, by the way her blonde curls tumble down her back.

 

He turns away before either one of them notice, swallowing hard. 

 

_What the hell was that_? 

 

When he turns around, Jasper and Monty are there, grinning and waggling their eyebrows at him. 

 

“Not a word,” he threatens, and they snicker as they follow him to the dropship, telling him all about their latest batch of moonshine. 

 

.

 

Later that afternoon, after everyone’s finished training, he, Clarke, Miller and Octavia head out to hunt. They’ve gotten better at it, but just barely. Harper is the best at skinning the animals, and Bellamy and Miller are the best shots. Octavia is a good tracker, and she’s swift with a knife. It sort of scares Bellamy. Clarke demanded to go as soon as she heard he was taking a group out, but he thinks it’s mostly because she got stuck in the dropship late in the morning dealing with people’s allergies and wanted to get out of camp for awhile. 

 

“All I’m saying is that you could never beat me at chess then, and you won’t be able to now,” Miller is saying, grinning as Clarke scoffs. 

 

“Where are you even going to find a chess set?” Octavia asks, laughing when Miller elbows her good-naturedly. 

 

“On those maps we have, there’s some old supply depots not too far from here,” Clarke says, “I bet one of them would have something like that in them.”

 

“Can we concentrate on one mission at a time?” Bellamy mutters, but his sister hears him. 

 

“Can you not be grumpy for one day?” She retorts.

 

“Wait,” Miller says suddenly, holding out his arm in front of Octavia. They all freeze. “I heard something.”

 

Bellamy draws his gun, and Miller’s got an axe in his hands, his knuckles white as he grips the handle. They’re barely moving, barely breathing, and then he hears it - the crunch of leaves, of footsteps. He hears Octavia’s breath catch, and before he can do or say anything, Clarke takes a few steps towards the noise, and then the ground is falling out from underneath her. She doesn’t even have time to scream.

 

“Clarke!” Octavia shouts, and Bellamy immediately hushes her, not knowing how many people are out there, or what they want. The thought of losing his baby sister is painful to even think about, so he turns to Miller with determination. 

 

“Take her back to camp,” he orders, and Miller looks towards where Clarke fell. “I’ll get her out,” Bellamy assures him, “Just go!” 

 

“Bellamy—“ Octavia starts to protest, but then there are suddenly two men in the clearing with them, and Bellamy shoves his sister behind him.

 

“What do you want?” He shouts towards one of them, and then they advance on them. 

 

“Go!” Bellamy growls, shoving Miller and Octavia towards each other, and once he’s sure they’re in the tree line, he turns back towards the men. One of them throws a punch once he’s close enough, and Bellamy fights back. He can see the other one moving towards the hole that Clarke fell into, and he lands one hard punch to the man’s face before he goes sprawling. Bellamy races for where Clarke fell, and tackles the man trying to get down to her. He lands hard on his left hip, and grimaces at the pain. He can hear Clarke shouting for him, and he wrestles with the man for a few minutes before throwing him off.  

 

Scrambling to gain the upper ground, Bellamy pins the man to the ground. “Who are you?” He snarls, and the man stays silent. “What do you want with us?”

 

“Mr. Wallace wants to meet you,” the man chokes out, and Bellamy’s grip tightens.

 

“How many of you are there?”

 

“Hu-hundreds! We live in Mount Weather.”

 

“You couldn’t just talk to us? You had to stage a kidnapping?”

 

“We— we had to be sure that you weren’t hostile, like the others!” He squeaks, and Bellamy realizes he can’t be much younger than Bellamy himself is. The man also has an oxygen mask on, and Bellamy pauses a moment to wonder about that. If they’ve lived in the Mountain this entire time, would they have adapted to the air?

 

“You’re going to go back to your Mountain, and you’re going to leave us the _fuck_ alone. Am I clear?” Bellamy says, making his voice as firm and full of authority as he possibly can. 

 

“You won’t last out here on your own. You need our help.”

 

Bellamy chuckles, “Says the guy wearing a mask. I think we’ll manage.”

 

The guy shuffles backwards quickly when Bellamy lets him go. 

 

“I’m going to get her out of there, and then we’re leaving. Don’t follow us, or I’ll kill you myself.” Bellamy threatens, and then turns towards where Clarke is. “Princess?” He calls, and when he looks down, he sees her sprawled on the ground. The hole is deep, but not deep enough that she’s broken any bones. “Are you okay?”

 

“Fine,” she says, but her voice sounds thick, like she’s trying not to cry. Bellamy frowns down at her, but lays on his stomach, reaching out a hand nonetheless. They have to get back to camp before either one of those guys change their minds. 

 

“Hold tight,” he tells her, and when her hand slips into his, he tries to ignore the prickling he feels at every point where their skin touches. He pulls, digging his feet into the ground, and soon Clarke is able to grab the ground near them and pull herself the rest of the way out.

 

“Thanks,” she says breathlessly, but her eyes widen when they land on the guy — soldier? Bellamy’s not sure what to think of him — laying a little ways to their left, eyes on Bellamy and Clarke. 

 

“We have to go,” he tells her, his voice urgent, and she nods when she meets his eyes. 

 

They turn and run, and they don’t look back, not until the walls of camp are in sight, and Monroe is shouting at someone to open the gate. Bellamy sighs in relief when he sees Miller and Octavia safely inside, and suddenly he has his arms full of his sister. 

 

“You took too long, we thought—“

 

“I’m fine. We’re fine,” he tells her, hand stroking over her hair.

 

“Who—“ Octavia starts, but stops when she sees Clarke favoring her ankle. “Clarke? Are you okay?”

 

“I’m fine,” Clarke says, “I think I twisted my ankle when I fell in that trap and then we ran the whole way back…”

 

“Come on,” his sister says, “I’ll help you wrap it up. You should get off your feet.”

 

Bellamy watches them go, his sister’s arm supporting Clarke’s weight, and that warm feeling from earlier in the day is back with a vengeance this time. He tries to shake it off, but he remembers the brief moment of panic he felt when Clarke disappeared from his view earlier, and he knows it’s not going to be as easy as he wants. 

 

That night, he gathers everyone around the fire. They have anxious eyes, their faces full of worry, and he’s never felt more like a leader than he does in this moment. They’re all counting on him to have the answers, and he’s worried he won’t be able to satisfy them. Somehow, he has a responsibility to these kids now, and he doesn’t want to let them down. Clarke sits off to his right, her ankle wrapped in all the extra bandages they have left. 

 

“The men we saw in the woods came back today,” he tells the group. “They said they live in Mount Weather.”

 

“What do they want?” Harper asks, and Bellamy holds up a hand to quiet everyone.

 

“I don’t know. They kept saying we wouldn’t last out here on our own, that their leader wanted to meet with us. It’s sketchy, at best. We don’t know anything about these people. Hell, we didn’t even know they existed in the first place. We need to fortify our walls. Everyone needs to be alert. I don’t want anyone going outside the wall without someone with them to watch their back. Is that understood?”

 

A ripple of agreement goes through the crowd, and Bellamy nods to himself. 

 

“You need to watch the ground wherever you go,” Clarke adds, and all eyes turn on her. “I wasn’t paying attention, and now I’m paying for it. They’re setting up traps in the woods. If you get stuck and you’re out there alone, it could be awhile before someone gets to you. We can’t take that risk.”

 

“Why can’t we just go to Mount Weather and find out what these people want?” A voice pipes up from the back, and Bellamy rolls his eyes when he realizes it’s Finn. Ever the optimist, Finn’s eyes turn on Clarke, a pleading look taking over his face. “What if they really want to help us?”

 

Bellamy’s eyes narrow. “They tried to fight me. They had guns.”

 

“I’m just saying, it can’t hurt to hear them out. What are we going to do when winter comes? We’re not prepared. They have supplies, shelter, _food_ —“

 

Bellamy takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, “Look. I understand what you’re thinking, okay? I do. We can’t take a chance that they’re violent. They came at us with a _gun_. If they wanted to _rescue_ us, they could have just come here themselves when they saw the dropship. They haven’t done that. Until someone comes here and wants to talk with us, I’m not dealing with these people. That’s the end of it.”

 

Finn looks like he wants to say something more, but he just snaps his jaw shut, looking sullen. Bellamy is sure he’ll hear about it from Clarke later, that needs to listen to people, that he can’t discredit people’s ideas in front of the entire group, yada yada yada. Sighing, Bellamy looks towards Clarke. Her expression is unreadable, but it doesn’t look like she has anything else to add. 

 

“We need to get some sleep. Tomorrow morning we need to reinforce the wall with whatever scrap metal we can find. We should send some groups out to those old supply bunkers too. They might have supplies we can use.”

 

Everyone murmurs their assent and then goes off to their tents, or sits down near the fire to soak up some warmth before they head off to bed. Bellamy feels a headache coming on, but he tries to ignore it. They’ve got too much to do for him to take a day off. 

 

.

.

.

.

 

 

_**C.** _

 

Clarke is glaring at every person who walks by as she sits on the ramp of the dropship, her leg propped up. She’s finding out just how much of a mother-hen the Blake siblings can be as they hover over her, one of them never far from her making sure she doesn’t get up and walk on her twisted ankle.

 

“How are you doing?” Wells asks as he comes and sits by her. She glares at him too, because she can’t get up, can’t get away from him. She could hobble away, sure, but she doesn’t want to. She just wants him to leave her alone.

 

When she doesn’t answer him, he puts a hand on her arm. “Clarke.”

 

“I’m fine. Now will you leave me alone?”

 

“Clarke—“

 

“There’s nothing you can say to me! So stop trying to act like you care about me because if you really did, you wouldn’t have turned my Dad in.”

 

“I need to tell you what happened,” Wells says, and Clarke hears a kind of desperation in his voice that she’s never heard before. It makes her pause, makes her look at him a little harder, trying to find her friend in the face of this person that she’s not sure she recognizes anymore. “Clarke, I didn’t turn your Dad in. I didn’t tell anyone. I swear, I would never—“

 

Clarke stands abruptly, forgetting about her ankle until pain shoots up her leg. “What are you _talking about_?” 

 

“You should sit—“

 

“No!” Clarke bats his hand away, “Not until you tell me what the hell you’re talking about.”

 

Wells sighs and runs a hand over his face. “I didn’t want to tell you. Clarke, I… I was home one night when your Mom came to visit. She told my Dad… she told my Dad that your Dad was going to go public with what was happening on the Ark.”

 

Clarke feels the Earth tilt under her. Her breath comes shallowly, and she thinks _no, no_ , over and over, because this can’t be true. Her Mom? Her own mother? _No_. 

 

“I tried… I tried to stop him, and he wouldn’t listen. Clarke, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want you to know. You already had to lose one parent. I didn’t want to make you hate your Mom.”

 

Clarke doesn’t know what to say. She just stares at him, at her best friend, and the realization that she couldn’t hate him, not when he was just trying to protect her crashes over her. “Wells,” she chokes out, and he smiles at her. 

 

“So… friends?” He asks, grinning at her, smiling even more when she punches his arm.

 

“You’re an idiot,” she says, smiling through her tears.

 

“So… this is the part where I give you some bad news.” Wells says, and Clarke quirks an eyebrow at him. “Okay, _more_ bad news. Monty thinks he can use some of the wristbands to get a working radio back up to the Ark.”

 

“What’s the bad news?”

 

“The bad news is that it’s working, and he… he talked to your Mom. She’s asking about you.”

 

Clarke’s eyes shut against her will. “I can’t… I can’t.”

 

“I know. I can… I can talk to her if you want. I’ll just tell her you’re alive.”

 

Clarke nods, seeing Octavia heading their way out of the corner of her eye. The younger girl’s eyes are narrowed at the sight of Clarke on her feet and Clarke knows a lecture is in her future.

 

“Why are you up?” She asks, stopping at the bottom of the ramp, her hands on her hips. “You shouldn’t be putting weight on your ankle!”

 

“I know, I—“

 

“Sit down right now or I’m going to recruit Miller to babysit you,” Octavia threatens, and Wells snorts. 

 

“Fine, fine.” Clarke sits down, and Wells knocks her shoulder with his. “You really don’t mind handling her for me?” She asks her friend, and Wells shakes his head.

 

“No. I… my Dad will want to talk to me anyway. Two birds, you know.”

 

Clarke smiles sadly at him. “I’m so sorry I was terrible to you.”

 

“You can make it up to me,” Wells tells her, winking. He gets up and leaves her by herself, heading to the area of the dropship that they’re using as a communications center.

 

Clarke grins to herself.

 

.

 

Later that night, Clarke is almost ready for bed when Bellamy barges into her tent.

 

“I need to talk to you,” he says, his voice gruff.

 

“Hi, Bellamy, how are you? Yes, I’m fine, thanks for asking! My ankle hurts like a bitch, but it’s fine, don’t ask me about it.” She responds, frowning at him.

 

He huffs. “Since when do I need to exchange pleasantries with you?”

 

“You’re right. Keep being an asshole.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Bellamy takes a step closer. “Can I talk to you?”

 

“Aren’t you already?”

 

“Forget it,” Bellamy growls, turning on his heel. “You know what?” He whirls around, “No. I was going to tell you that I talked to Wells, if you cared. I was going to ask you about camp business, since apparently you've decided you're in charge. If you want a nice guy who’s going to ask after your feelings, maybe you should’ve picked Finn.”

 

“ _Picked_? Are you five?” Clarke asks incredulously, “I didn’t pick anyone! You showed up here, literally guns blazing, and put yourself in charge! The only reason you give me the time of day is because you know half of those kids won’t listen to you.”

 

“Do you hear yourself? We’ve been on the ground for a month, princess. It’s time to accept that these kids look to me as a leader, even if you don’t.”

 

Clarke’s eyes narrow, and she takes a step forward, pointing her finger at his chest, “If all you wanted was to come in here and pick a fight, you got your wish. Now get out of here before I tell you what I really think of you.”

 

Bellamy laughs, a bitter, sarcastic sound, “No, let’s hear it.” He holds his hands out like he’s ready for whatever she’s got to throw his way. “Please, tell me what the _perfect_ princess thinks of some lowly janitor from the Ark. You already know I was almost a murderer, so I can't believe you could think any lower of me, but please. Let me have it.

 

Clarke feels herself clench her fists, can practically feel the heat flowing off her in waves as her anger increases. She falters slightly at his use of the word _murderer_ and wonders what happened when he told Wells about his Dad. “Fine. I think you’re a self-serving, self-involved asshole.”

 

“Nothing I haven’t heard before—“

 

“I’m not done!” Clarke shouts, taking a step closer until they’re practically nose to nose. “You have the ability to be a nice person, Bellamy. I’ve seen it. With your sister, with Jasper and Monty, hell, even with me. But you know what your biggest fault is? You’re so caught up in what other people think of you that you _let_ them make you into this… this selfish, arrogant asshole!” Clarke stops for a second, relishing the half-stunned look on Bellamy’s face. “That makes you _weak_. Being rude and mean to everyone doesn’t make them respect you. It makes them _fear_ you, and trust me, those are not the same things!”

 

“I don’t have to listen to this,” Bellamy rasps, turning to leave, but Clarke reaches out, grabs his arm before he can get too far. 

 

“You had a shitty life on the Ark? Well, join the club. My Mom got my Dad floated. I spent a _year_ in solitary confinement! You’re mad at the world and you have a right to be, but don’t take it out on me. You don’t have a claim on being miserable.”

 

After Clarke’s outburst, they both stay silent, breathing heavily, staring at each other in the dim light from Clarke’s tent. Her ankle throbs, so she sits down as primly as she can manage, lifting her foot off the ground. “You can go now,” she tells him, looking up briefly, but long enough to catch a glimpse of a hurt look flash across his face before he can conceal it. 

 

He clears his throat, “I was going to tell you that I talked to Wells, and it turns out his Dad is still alive. It also turns out that _someone_ talked to the Chancellor before Wells did, and managed to convince him that I deserved to be pardoned." His voice is different, full of emotion, and Clarke remembers the conversation so clearly. She remembers telling the Chancellor that Bellamy is the only reason they were all alive, and that she was going to keep the whole thing a secret. Bellamy doesn't wait for her to gather her thoughts, though. "I was also going to tell you that your mom wants to talk to you. But forget it.”

 

He leaves, and Clarke is left to ponder what this knot in her stomach means.

 

.

.

.

.

 

_**B.** _

 

Clarke and Bellamy avoid each other for two weeks before they’re forced to work together again. Near their camp, on the edge of the woods, a pod from the Ark crashes. Miller and a few older kids are on patrol when it happens, but Clarke is the one that gets there first. Bellamy is close behind, having followed the group as soon as they took off running.

 

There’s a girl inside, and Clarke says she recognizes her from engineering on the Ark. She’s their age, and she’s unconscious. Together, Clarke and Octavia manage to get her out of the pod without worsening her injuries, and then Finn is there, a look of disbelief on his face.

 

“Raven,” he whispers, and he looks at Clarke with wide, fearful eyes. 

 

“You know her?” Clarke asks.

 

“Yeah,” he replies, “Yeah, I… we grew up together.” He tells her, and it sounds like an excuse. 

 

“We don’t have time for this. We need to get her back to camp,” Bellamy says, though his tone is gentle, “We don’t know how long it will be before the people in the mountain try to find whatever crashed out here.”

 

Clarke meets his eyes but looks away as soon as they make eye contact, and Bellamy resists the urge to roll his eyes. He’s tired of this — of the back and forth between he and Clarke, the push and pull as neither of them wants to give in and just figure out how to make this partnership work. 

 

He doesn’t want to admit it, but Clarke’s words to him when they argued struck a chord. He already feels conflicted — he’s been feeling conflicted about Clarke for weeks; ever since she got hurt and he had to save her. It eats at him that she doesn’t trust him to do anything other than scare some sense into the delinquents. It also eats at him that while she claims to not trust him as far as she can throw him, she  _did_ defend him to the Chancellor. Wells told him all about it, after he punched him square in the face for shooting his Dad. Bellamy hadn't blamed him, and hadn't even fought back. He was too busy digesting the fact that Thelonious Jaha was  _still alive_ , because he was sure it meant a death sentence for him. When Wells calmed down, Bellamy had explained the entire thing to him, and because Bellamy believes that Wells Jaha is a much better person than he'll ever be, he understood. He didn't forgive him, but he understood.

 

The Chancellor requested to speak with him, and so he did, and found out that Clarke had already spoken on Bellamy's behalf. She single handedly managed to get Bellamy pardoned for his crime, convincing Jaha and the council that Bellamy was the sole reason the rest of the hundred have managed to stay alive this long. Shaking his thoughts away, Bellamy concentrates on the task at hand.

 

They manage to carry Raven carefully back to camp and get her set up in the dropship. She has a concussion and some other injuries that Clarke takes care of while Bellamy stands there, leaning against the doorway. 

 

“Did you ever talk to your Mom?” He asks, and she looks at him, her face carefully blank.

 

“No.”

 

Bellamy looks up to the ceiling, praying to some unknown deity to give him the strength he needs to deal with Clarke Griffin when she’s mad and holding a grudge. “Are you going to?”

 

“No.”

 

“We need to find out if the Ark is coming down, Clarke. We can’t just sit here and wait to find out if we're going to get help, or supplies --"

 

“Ask her yourself. I have nothing to say to her.”

 

Bellamy opens his mouth to retort when Jasper comes running in. “Bellamy! You’re going to want to see this,” he tells him, and Bellamy levels a look at Clarke that she pointedly ignores, going back to work on cleaning Raven’s injuries.

 

When Bellamy gets out to the main area of the camp, he stops dead when he sees more than one kid with a _gun_ in their hands. “What _the fuck_ is going on?” He bellows, and everyone freezes. “Where the hell did you get these?” He asks, removing a gun from the hands of a kid who can’t be more than thirteen. 

 

“That supply depot you wanted us to check out,” Miller answers. “There’s tons of them, Bellamy. Bullets too.”

 

Bellamy is speechless. This… this could mean the difference between being sitting ducks for the people who live in the mountain and being able to defend themselves. “First of all,” he says, loud enough that everyone can hear him, “these are not _toys_. I don’t ever want to see you point a gun at someone, loaded or not.”

 

“We can’t keep them,” Finn says, appearing seemingly out of thin air next to Bellamy. 

 

“We can if we can train people on how to use them safely. Who knows what will happen if those people from Mount Weather show up? We need to be able to defend ourselves.”

 

“Have you talked to Clarke about this?” Finn asks, like he doesn’t already know that she and Bellamy aren’t speaking, that they haven’t been speaking for weeks. 

 

“Shouldn’t you check on Raven?” Bellamy replies, daring Finn to challenge him again in front of the others. 

 

Finn storms off, and Bellamy watches him go, making sure he’s back in the dropship before turning to Miller. “We need to train them, like we did with the knives. You know how to use a rifle, right?”

 

“I know enough.”

 

Bellamy nods. “First thing tomorrow morning.”

 

.

 

That night, Bellamy dreams of his mother. She’s looking at him like she doesn’t recognize him, but when she speaks, it’s Clarke’s voice. _You’re weak_ , she tells him, and her face is mean, almost cruel. Bellamy begs her, pleads with her to forgive him, but then suddenly they’re on the Ark, and the door to the airlock is being pressed, sucking his mother out into space—— 

 

He wakes up with a jolt. 

 

Clarke is standing in the entrance to his tent, looking anywhere but at him. “Um…” she starts, “Sorry.”

 

“What do you want, princess?” He snaps, trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

 

“Miller wants you for training.” Is all she says, her face neutral.

 

“You’re not going to fight me on having firearms in camp?”

 

She crosses her arms over her chest, “I don’t really like it, but we need protection. Besides, you’re the only one with real training. What I think doesn’t matter.”

 

Bellamy stands, stretching, and tries not to feel too cocky when he notices her gaze slip to his chest before hastily retreating to his eyes. “I’m gonna need you to write that down, princess.”

 

“What?”

 

“You said ‘ _what I think doesn’t matter_ ’. I’m gonna need that in writing.”

 

“Shut up,” Clarke tells him, but she’s smiling, and he thinks this is the first time in weeks that they’ve been able to have a semi-civil conversation about anything. Bonding over weapons? Not really his cup of tea, but if it means she’ll stop staring at him like she’s disappointed, like she knows every bad thing he’s ever thought about, then he’ll take it.

 

“Spacewalker isn’t going to like you taking my side on this one,” he warns her, only a little curious about what she’ll say. He doesn’t understand much about that relationship, and he’s not even sure why he wants to know. Raven’s here after all, and Finn hasn’t really left her side since, unless it was to tell Bellamy he was wrong about something.

 

Clarke rolls her eyes, “Can you please shut up and put a shirt on? Miller is waiting for you.” She doesn’t wait for him to respond, she just turns on her heels and walks out. 

 

Bellamy has a smile on his face for most of the morning.

 

.

 

Later that afternoon, Clarke and Raven go out looking for herbs, and come across a small lake. Raven whoops with laughter, running in before Clarke can lecture her about checking for radiation. After she determines it’s safe, Clarke gives in, and follows her friend.

 

They laugh as they splash each other, and Clarke savors the feeling of the cool water washing away the dirt and grime on her face and body, even through her clothes. 

 

“Are we invited to the party?” A voice startles them, and they turn to see Bellamy standing there with the hunting party, a grin stretched across his face. Clarke is stricken by the sight of it; the smile completely transforming Bellamy’s face. 

 

“Only if you can catch us!” Raven shouts, and then the entire group is shrieking, running into the water. 

 

Clarke and Raven dive under the water, Clarke kicking her legs as fast as she can. She can hear splashing and sounds of laughter from the surface, and only has a moment to think about how much they all deserve this before she feels strong arms band around her waist, hauling her to the surface.

 

Above water, she sputters, and spins around in the arms she was tangled up in to see Bellamy grinning down at her. “Caught you,” he says, and his voice is rough, low, and something about their proximity sends shivers down Clarke’s spine.

 

“Y-yeah…” She says, her voice shaky. “I guess you did.”

 

He’s still smiling, and this side of Bellamy is one that she wishes she could see more often. He actually looks _happy_ , and suddenly Clarke is acutely aware of every point that his skin touches hers. He seems to realize this too, and she knows she’s not imagining the way his eyes darken.

 

“Princess—“ 

 

A splash comes their way suddenly, and then Monty is there, literally jumping on Bellamy’s back, trying to dunk him. Clarke takes the opportunity to get as far away from Bellamy as she can, wondering what the hell has gotten into her.

 

For a moment, she had seriously considered kissing Bellamy Blake, and that should have been her first clue that the world was practically ending.

 

.

.

.

.

 

_**B.** _

 

A week later, Octavia goes missing. Bellamy is beside himself. He hasn’t seen her since breakfast, when he managed to scarf down a few nuts and berries in between training sessions. He’s looked everywhere he can think of, and he’s starting to lose it a little bit.

 

_My sister, my responsibility_ , he tells himself over and over, his mother’s voice echoing in his head. 

 

It’s too much.

 

“We’re going to find her,” Miller reassures him, but that’s when Wells shows up.

 

“There’s signs of a struggle towards the river. I’m not positive that it was her, but it’s a start.” He tells them, and Bellamy feels his fear like a real, living thing, choking him. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if Octavia is hurt. He’s supposed to be the one to protect her, and he hadn’t even noticed she was gone until Jasper pointed out that he hadn’t seen her in awhile.

 

“Let’s go,” Bellamy says roughly, heading to his tent to pack a bag. He tucks his gun into his waistband, and searches for his canteen, feeling frustrated and more panicked every second. “God _dammit_ ,” he growls, throwing his pack across the tent when he can’t find his canteen. 

 

“Bellamy.” Clarke’s voice from the doorway sounds, and when he looks up, she has Raven with her. Turning to the brunette, Clarke’s voice is quiet, like one would speak to a child. “Can you go check on the rest of the group? I’ll be out there in a second.”

 

Raven goes, after sending Clarke a long look that Bellamy is too preoccupied to decipher. 

 

“I would ask if you’re okay, but I know that’s a stupid question.” She says, walking into his tent. She starts to pick up the things from his bag, stuffing some ration packs and a knife back into the makeshift knapsack. “We’re going to find her.”

 

“Everyone keeps saying that.” Bellamy says, running both his hands through his hair. 

 

Clarke pulls him to sit down on his bed, a pile of blankets they found in one of the bunkers. “Hey, calm down. It’s going to be okay.”

 

“Nothing is okay until we fucking  _find_ my sister!” He hisses through his teeth, trying not to yell at her. 

 

“Let’s go, then. Everyone’s waiting.”

 

When they get outside, there’s a small group ready to go. Wells and Finn, because they’re the best trackers, Miller, because he and Bellamy have the best rifle skills in the camp, and Clarke. They set out, no one really speaking. Wells leads them to the tracks he saw, and Bellamy’s heart sinks when he sees the tracks. Wells was right — it does look like signs of a struggle. The idea of someone _attacking_ his baby sister makes him see red, and he’s off and moving into the woods before any of the others can stop him. 

 

They walk for what feels like hours before the trail runs cold. Bellamy is close to ripping his hair out. It’s starting to get dark out, and he knows they need to get back to camp, but there’s no way they’ll make it back in time. Raven is in charge at camp while the rest of them are gone, and Bellamy trusts her to take care of things there, so he suggests that they make camp for the night.

 

Miller and Clarke start a fire, and Bellamy refuses to eat, just concentrates on trying to fall asleep. He knows he won’t sleep much, but he can’t afford to be tired and off his game while they look for his sister. 

 

“I’ll take first watch,” Miller tells them, and Wells offers to stay up with him. The rest of them form a half circle around the fire, and curl up to sleep. 

 

After a few hours, Miller shakes him awake and they switch, leaving him and Clarke on watch. They mostly sit in silence. He thinks Clarke wants to talk to him, probably wants to try and reassure him about Octavia, but he’s glad she doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t think he can take anymore empty promises. 

 

Sometime during their second hour of being on watch, he hears a noise in the underbrush. A soft crunching noise, and he stands, his gun in his hands before he can even think about what he’s doing.

 

“ _Bellamy_ ,” Clarke hisses, trying to talk him down, but it’s too late. In the shadows, Bellamy sees a figure dart through the trees, and he’s taking off after it before he can even tell his feet to move. “Bellamy!” He hears Clarke shout after him, but he can’t stop. He advances on the person and when he gets close enough, he leaps forward, tackling the person to the ground. 

 

“Don’t move,” he growls, but whoever it is doesn’t listen, and suddenly Bellamy is on his back, and there are hands around his neck. He feels the air being choked out of him, and he scratches at his attacker’s hands, trying to get some relief.

 

“Get off him!” he hears Clarke’s voice, and then the weight on his body is gone. He rolls over and scrambles to his feet, looking over just in time to see a man ram the butt of his gun into Clarke’s stomach. She lets out a low noise, and stumbles backwards, and Bellamy takes advantage of the man’s hesitance to tackle him again. 

 

“Did you take my sister?” Bellamy snarls, his own hands going around the man’s neck. “Tell me where she is!” 

 

The man laughs, _laughs_ , and Bellamy is enraged. His hands tighten around the man’s neck, and he increases the pressure until he feels the man stop squirming. Panting, Bellamy lets go, stumbling backwards, almost crashing into Clarke. 

 

“You’re okay,” she murmurs, and he nods.

 

She takes a few steps forward and presses against the man’s pulse, dropping her hand away when she confirms what Bellamy already knows — the man is dead. Bellamy killed someone. Not with a gun, but with his own hands. 

 

Clarke comes back to collapse next to him, both of them resting against a tree. They sit there, trying to gain their bearings, and Bellamy can’t hold it in anymore. “My mother would be ashamed of me. The things I’ve done…” he trails off, letting out a bitter laugh. “I’m a monster. You were right.”

 

Clarke’s eyes are impossibly wide and remorseful when she looks at him. “No. Bellamy, I… we don’t always get along, and that’s okay, but you can’t think that about yourself. You’re keeping us all alive.”

 

“I can’t even protect my own sister. How can I keep the rest of you alive and safe?” He turns to her, searching for answers. After all they’ve been through on the ground, after the way that she went after that man, no hesitation, all to save Bellamy’s life… he’s done trying to pretend he hates her. 

 

“We’re going to find Octavia. You’re going to find her, and she is going to be _fine_. In the meantime, you can’t run from it. Okay? The responsibility might seem like too much, but you have to face it.”

 

Bellamy huffs. “Like you faced your Mom?”

 

The fight drains out of Clarke. She slumps back against the tree, and that guilty feeling is back again, nagging at him. “You’re right,” she says. “I don’t want to face her. I don’t want to face any of it. It’s too much. The only thing I think about every day is how we’re going to keep everyone alive.”

 

Bellamy stares at her, and it hits him suddenly how young she is. She’s just over eighteen, still a kid herself, and she’s already had to prove herself to everyone. “We’ll do it together,” he blurts. “Okay? I’m… I’m sorry I’m always such an asshole. I don’t know how to do this. How to trust someone.” _Someone like you_ , he thinks.

 

After they catch their breath, they head back to the campsite. Miller, Wells and Finn pounce on them when they get back, saying that they heard shouting but couldn’t find them. Bellamy tells them about the man in the woods, and is hoping to catch a few more hours of sleep when the trees around them rustle. 

 

Bellamy and Miller are immediately on alert, drawing their guns, and when Octavia bursts through the tree line, Bellamy barely even glances at the man next to her. He runs to his sister, meeting her halfway, and feels the weight of the world fly off his shoulders as he embraces her. 

 

“O,” he whispers, “Don’t ever do that again.” Setting her down, he looks her over. “Are you okay? Clarke, we need to check her for injuries.”

 

“Bellamy—“

 

“What happened? Where did you go?” 

 

“Bellamy!” Octavia says loudly, getting his attention. “We have to get back to camp. This is Lincoln,” she gestures towards the man at her side, and Bellamy’s gaze lingers on the man’s strange clothes and tattoos. His eyes narrow. “Bellamy, he saved my life. He has information you’re going to want to hear, but we need to get back to the dropship. It’s not safe here.”

 

“No kidding,” Clarke whispers, and Bellamy scrubs a hand over his face.

 

“Why should I trust this guy?”

 

Octavia glares, “I told you! He saved _my life_. Bellamy, please,” she begs, and Bellamy finds that he still can’t deny her anything, even now, sixteen years after she was born.

 

“Lead the way,” he says, glancing at Wells and Finn over his shoulder. “We better move fast if we want to get there by daylight.”

 

.

.

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.

 

_**C.** _

 

Clarke watches Bellamy warily, as he paces in the dropship. “Repeat that one more time,” he says, his voice low and dangerous.

 

Lincoln, the man Octavia came back with, claims to be from a different _clan_ than the people who live in the mountain. It’s a little hard for Clarke to wrap her brain around, but at this point she’s more worried that Bellamy is going to try to kill this guy.

 

“I found your sister in the woods. She was outnumbered.”

 

“By _who_.”

 

“People from the mountain. They’re not good people. Before Octavia and I got out of there, I overheard them talking in the woods. They’re planning to come to your camp tomorrow.”

 

Clarke looks at Bellamy, trying to communicate to him without words that they weren’t ready for this, they couldn’t do this. She felt panic rising up in her chest, and he must have noticed, because he turned to his sister. “I need everyone to get out of here but Clarke. We need to figure out what to do.”

 

“Bell—“ Octavia starts to protest, but Bellamy levels her with a look that was so parental, Octavia has no choice but to do what he says. 

 

When everyone is gone, Bellamy starts pacing again, much to Clarke’s chagrin. “We can’t handle this,” he says roughly. “We don’t have the numbers or the weapons to go against an entire army.”

 

“We need to negotiate,” Clarke advises, “We’ve done nothing wrong. We’re just trying to survive!” 

 

“Do we even hear them out? Are we going to let them in?”

 

Clarke feels like she’s at her wits’ end. “I don’t think we have a choice.”

 

Bellamy stops pacing, staring across the dimly lit tent at Clarke. The look on his face is one she doesn’t see much — for the first time since they landed on the ground, he looks unsure. She’s not used to this side of him, one who looks vulnerable and doesn’t know what to do.

 

“Listen to me,” she starts, “Bellamy, we have to trust each other. We can’t do this without trusting each other. They’ll see through us and see our weakness right away.”

 

He’s nodding. “I know. I’m—“

 

They’re interrupted when Octavia comes rushing back in. “Bellamy, you better get out here. They’re early.”

 

Bellamy and Clarke share a glance, and Clarke doesn’t hesitate to follow him out of the dropship. When they get to the center of camp, there are two men standing there, one old and one younger. Everyone looks tense. Miller and Harper have their guns at their sides, but they’re white knuckled on the grips. 

 

“Are you in charge here?” The older man asks, and Clarke takes a step in front of Bellamy.

 

“We both are.” 

 

“My name is Dante Wallace and this is my son, Cage. We’d like to speak with you about an alliance.”

 

Clarke hesitates. She remembers Lincoln’s words to them in the tent, and looks towards Bellamy over her shoulder. 

 

“You attacked us in the woods, more than once. Why should we speak with you?” Clarke doesn’t know where her sudden confidence is coming from, but it definitely doesn’t get past her that she feels safe with Bellamy’s presence at her back. 

 

“If you don’t, you won’t make it through the winter,” the younger man — Cage, she remembers — says. Clarke doesn’t like him on sight. He looks at her like she’s specimen for him to study, and it makes her nervous. 

 

“Son, don’t be hasty,” Dante says. “We want to offer you our facilities in exchange for your alliance. We have food and clothes and technology. It’ll be much better than if you stay out here alone. The winter is when the Grounders are strongest, and you don’t want them to find you first.”

 

“So far we’ve had better luck with them than with you,” Octavia says, fury lacing her voice. Dante looks at her like he didn’t even realize she was there, and Clarke wonders if he’s looking at the cuts and abrasions on her face.

 

Dante’s gaze slides over to Lincoln, and his eyes narrow. “I see. We’re sorry if we caused you any trouble. We never meant to scare you.”

 

“Some of your people tried to _shoot_ me,” Bellamy says, his voice hard. “You can see where we’d be confused.”

 

Everyone is quiet for a few moments before Dante tenses up, folding his arms over his chest.

 

“Very well. If you don’t want to negotiate with us, then we won’t bother you. Know this — on the ground, you have to pick a side to survive. You wouldn’t want to end up on the wrong side of history.” After that, the two men leave, and Clarke immediately turns around to face Bellamy.

 

“Get Lincoln and Octavia and get into the tent.”

 

That night, they spend hours talking with Lincoln about his people — _Grounders_ , he says, the tree clan — and their history with the people in Mount Weather. The mountain has been kidnapping people for years, and one person who escaped (Anya, a warrior), told them that they were trying to drill her for her bone marrow. 

 

Clarke feels sick to her stomach imagining all the people trapped in there, all the people who were tricked into thinking they were being accepted into a better society, one that was going to grant them a new, better life. 

 

“Dante and Cage are the only ones I’ve ever seen without masks,” Lincoln says. “The others can’t come outside. The radiation would kill them. That’s why they want you.” 

 

“What are we going to do?” Clarke whispers. Bellamy looks at her sharply.

 

“Hey. We’ll figure it out.”

 

“We need the Ark,” Clarke says, not even listening to Bellamy. There’s a dull roar in her ears, and all she can do is picture all of her friends, all of the people she’s grown to care for being captured and drilled into until they have no one left. “They could protect us. We can’t do this. We can’t do this. We can’t—“

 

“ _Clarke_.” Bellamy says, capturing her gaze. He turns to the others, “Everyone get out. I need to talk to Clarke.”

 

The others listen, and Bellamy instructs them to double the patrol on the wall for tonight. Clarke still feels like she’s having an out of body experience, and has to force herself to regulate her breathing before she hyperventilates. 

 

“Princess, listen to me. I need you to calm down. We need you to have a level head. You have people who are depending on you.”

 

“We can’t—“

 

“We don’t have a choice!” Bellamy hisses, “You said so yourself. We have to do this, Clarke. We have to protect our people. The Ark isn’t coming. If they do, they’ll be too late. We need to take a stand, and we need to do it now.”

 

“What if I can’t do it?” Clarke blurts, feeling more scared than she ever has been since getting on the ground. “What if I’m not strong enough?”

 

Bellamy’s face softens. Clarke can’t remember ever seeing Bellamy look like this, especially at her. The last few weeks have been so trying between the two of them. They’ve fought at every twist and turn, and he’s never looked at her like he’s looking at her now. “If you would have asked me two months ago, I would never have admitted this, but princess… you’re strong enough for the both of us. Hell, you’re probably stronger than I ever could be. I… I need you, Clarke. I need you to do this.”

 

Clarke is dumbfounded. She can’t say anything, can’t even think of the right words to tell him what hearing that from him means to her. So, she does what she always does, she panics, and she runs.

 

She flees the dropship, ignoring his calls behind her, and orders Harper to open the gate. 

 

“You can’t go by yourself,” the girl says, and Clarke glares at her.

 

“I need some air. I’ll be back in ten minutes,” she says, and Harper looks unsure, but lets her pass. Clarke runs and runs until she’s sure she’s far enough away, and then she finally lets herself collapse. She sinks against a tree trunk and gasps for breath.

 

She’s not ready for this. She’s not ready for the weight of the entire camp on her shoulders, and she’s certainly not ready for Bellamy Blake to tell her that he needs her to lead. It’s too much, and she can’t take it. That, combined with the idea that she could be unintentionally following in her mother’s footsteps, makes her lose it. She tries to take a few deep breaths, but she can’t. 

 

“Shit,” she curses, trying to regain her bearings.

 

Suddenly, a figure is in front of her. “You really should have reconsidered our offer,” a voice says, and before Clarke can even scream, she feels a blow to the back of her head, and everything goes black.

 

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_**B.** _

 

“Bellamy, sit down,” Miller grumbles, “you’re going to make me puke.”

 

Bellamy glares. Clarke ran away from him and the camp an hour ago, and she’s still not back. It’s dark, and he feels dread welling up inside of him every minute that she doesn’t come back. Miller had to pull him away when Bellamy started yelling at Harper, chastising her for letting Clarke leave in the first place.

 

“I’ll sit down when I’m positive that our only medic isn’t dead in the woods somewhere,” he growls. 

 

“Are you sure that’s the only reason you’re freaking out right now?” Miller asks, and Bellamy stops, letting his friend’s work sink in. 

 

He is not dumb enough to pretend that he could do any of this without Clarke. The kids trust her, look to her like they’d look to their mothers. She fixes up their scrapes and braids flowers into the small girls’ hair, and sometimes she smiles at him like he’s the fucking _sun_ when he tells the girls how pretty they look, and… _shit_. 

 

Does he care about her? He guesses so. He doesn’t want to put into words what he thinks he might be feeling when it comes to Clarke. She… she challenges him every step of the way, and she drives him crazy, but then he remembers the sheer panic that came over him when she got hurt, and when she tried to stop that man from the mountain from killing him. He remembers her face when she told him he wasn’t a monster. He thinks about that day at the lake when they were allowed to just be kids for a little bit, and how she fit perfectly against his body. 

 

“We can’t do anything until it gets light out,” Miller is saying, dragging Bellamy out of his thoughts. “She’ll be fine. She’s a fighter, and she can take care of herself.”

 

“First thing in the morning, we’re going to get her. I knew those fucking bastards weren’t going to leave without a threat. This is it,” he says, thinking of the slimy looking man who came to their camp earlier in the day. “Did we do this? Did we cause this to happen?”

 

“Don’t think like that. You heard what Lincoln told us. We can’t trust those people.”

 

“Can we go up against them, though? Can we rescue someone without starting a war?”

 

Miller shrugs, sighing. “I don’t know. We have to try though, don’t we?”

 

Bellamy wonders when life on the ground became all about making tough decisions.

 

.

 

In the morning, nearly the entire camp takes part in the search for Clarke. Bellamy is going on pure adrenaline. He barely lets anyone take any breaks for water until Octavia practically hits him upside the head. 

 

“We’ll find her, Bell, but we can’t do it if we’re all about to pass out!”

 

They break for fifteen minutes before Bellamy makes them set out again, and before he knows it, Finn, Wells and Lincoln follow a trail that leads them straight to Mount Weather. The idea that Clarke is in there, alone and in trouble makes his heart tighten in a way that he isn’t ready to acknowledge. 

 

The trail leads them to a clearing by the river, and Bellamy can hardly breathe when he sees spots of blood on the rocks. 

 

“Bellamy! Over here!” Wells calls, and Bellamy knows he’s not imagining the panic in his voice. He runs up to where a small crowd has gathered, and when he sees a flash of blonde hair, his stomach drops. 

 

“Clarke,” he whispers. “Move. Move!” He tells whoever is in front of him, and the crowd parts, except for Octavia, who is gently turning Clarke’s head towards her.

 

“She has a pulse,” Octavia says, and Bellamy can finally breathe again. 

 

“They just left her out here,” Bellamy grinds out. “We need to get back to camp.”

 

They make it back to camp in only a few hours, those of them carrying Clarke trying not to jostle her or agitate her while they don’t know how injured she is. 

 

When they get back, Raven meets them at the gate. “What happened?” She asks, helping Bellamy and Miller as they carry Clarke. 

 

“She was attacked. I don’t… Shit. I don’t know what to do. She’s the medic, I’m not…” Bellamy trails off, swallowing hard.

 

“Hey. You can do this. Clarke needs you to do this,” Raven tells him, and he fights back the uncertainty he’s feeling. She’s right — Clarke needs him right now, and for once, he’s going to be the person his mother wanted him to be. He’s going to step up, and fix this.

 

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_**C.** _

 

When Clarke opens her eyes, she doesn’t know where she is. She tries to move her legs, tries to move her arms, and feels excruciating pain radiate through her body. She must have let out a noise, because out of the corner of her eye, she sees movement, and feels whatever she’s laying on dip as someone sits down. 

 

“Clarke?”

 

She tries to answer. She tries to ask what happened to her, but her throat is so dry she can barely speak. 

 

“Princess, you have to wake up. I… I need you to wake up. I can’t do this on my own.”

 

_Bellamy_.

 

“Bellamy,” she croaks, this time out loud, trying to speak louder. He must hear her though, because she feels his hand envelop her own. His hand is warm, and rough, and she feels the warmth radiating from him and going through her entire body. “How… how long…”

 

“You’ve been out for four days,” he tells her and he sounds… well, honestly, he sounds _wrecked_. It’s not an emotion she associates with Bellamy Blake. Not when it comes to her, anyway. “You’ve missed a lot, princess. A lot of opportunities to tell me I’m wrong about stuff.”

 

She tries to laugh, but it comes out flat. “What happened?” She asks, still struggling to open her eyes.

 

“You got so mad at me you walked straight into a trap,” he says, and it hits her. He blames himself. He blames himself from her running away and getting herself kidnapped, and that’s why she can practically hear the remorse in his voice.

 

“This isn’t your fault,” she argues.

 

He scoffs. “They _took you_ , Clarke. I… You don’t know how worried everyone’s been.”

 

She can see how worried _he’s_ been, at any rate. There are bags under his eyes, and he looks like he hasn’t changed clothes or slept in a week. He tells her that she has a lot of self defense wounds, mostly bruises and scrapes, but a few cracked ribs, too.

 

“They’re not going to get away with this,” he promises, and Clarke feels a swell of affection for her gruff co-leader well up inside of her.

 

Clarke turns her hand over, and on a split-second decision, laces their fingers together. She hears rather than sees Bellamy’s breath hitch, and he squeezes her hand. “Thank you for coming after me,” Clarke says. “There was a time when I’m pretty sure you would have just left me out there.”

 

A look of hurt flashes across Bellamy’s face, but it’s gone quickly, and determination replaces it. “I was wrong, before. I told you that you were _probably_ stronger than me, but now I know it for sure.” Bellamy reaches up and cups her face, his rough hands practically burning against her skin. “When we first met, I thought you were the most spoiled person I’d ever met. I was wrong about that, too. Clarke, you’re… you surprise me every single day. You’re a much better person than I’ll ever be, but maybe that’s why we work so well together. We’re going to beat the mountain, princess. You and me.”

 

The affection in his voice is clear, and Clarke is struck speechless by his words. Swallowing hard, she manages to regain her voice. “Together,” she agrees. “And Bellamy? You’re stronger than you think.”

 

He smiles at her, but it’s weak, the corners of his lips just barely tilting upwards. They keep eye contact for a few moments before he clears his throat. “You should get some more rest. There’s water next to you. I’ll have Octavia come in and check your stitches.”

 

Clarke’s eyebrows raise, “Stitches?”

 

Bellamy’s features seem to darken. “Clarke… you were in pretty bad shape when we found you. I thought… I didn’t think you were going to make it.”

 

“I feel fine, Bellamy,” Clarke says, frowning at the obvious worry in his voice.

 

“If it’s all the same to you, I’ll let my sister be the judge of that.”

 

He turns to leave, but Clarke stops him. “Bellamy?” When he turns around, she ducks her head down to her chest, trying to summon the courage she needs to say her next words. “If you ever got hurt like this, I would have been upset too.”

 

He looks surprised, but covers it quickly. “I’m not upset.”

 

Clarke smirks despite herself. “Okay. Whatever you say.”

 

When she sees that he is actually _blushing_ , she can barely hold back her smile. 

 

“Tell anyone about this, and I’ll have to toss you in the lake,” he says, and winks at her, actually _winks_ before exiting the tent, leaving her to her thoughts.

 

They’re mostly of him.

 

.

 

The weeks go by in a flurry of activity. They fortify the wall, and actually begin to put together real structures, from fallen trees and pieces of scrap metal. They meet the leader of Lincoln’s people, Anya, who had been taken by Dante Wallace’s people. 

 

She tells them what she knows, and tells Clarke that she’s not the first person to get kidnapped just for the sake of sending a message. Together with Lincoln, Raven, Miller, Octavia, and Wells, the tree clan and the hundred have an agreement. 

 

The hundred will get supplies (furs, meat, seeds and medical training) from the Grounders, and in turn, the hundred will help the Grounders come up with a plan to rescue the rest of their people from the mountain. It’s a beneficial partnership for both sides, and Clarke finally starts to have hope that they can do this; they can make life on the ground work for them.

 

Clarke and Bellamy barely sleep in the weeks leading up to the planned raid of the mountain. They have hours of what are essentially war council meetings with Anya and her second in command, Indra. Clarke is overcome with anxiety and fear when the night before the attack comes, and goes to her tent early, trying to get as much sleep as possible. 

 

She doesn’t know what will happen if Raven’s makeshift smoke bombs don’t create enough of a distraction, or if Monty and Jasper can’t manage to hack into the mountain’s communication systems. She doesn’t want to think about what will happen if it all goes wrong. She can’t. These kids are like her family now, and she can’t stand the thought of anything happening to any of them.

 

After tossing and turning for most of the night, the morning comes. The sun is just up, touching the treetops with a golden hue when Clarke leaves her tent. She spots Bellamy in the distance, and remembers that he put himself on patrol for the last shift of the night. When she reaches his side, he barely glances at her, but the way he turns his body slightly towards her tells her that he knows she’s there.

 

“You should try to get some more sleep,” he tells her, and she laughs.

 

“Yeah right. Like you? You’ve been out here all night, haven’t you?”

 

He makes a noncommittal noise, and Clarke rolls her eyes. 

 

“We’re going to be fine, you know.” He says, and he finally looks at her. “We have to be,” he continues, almost to himself.

 

“We’re going to be fine,” Clarke echoes, but when everyone wakes up and starts to prepare for the raid, she doesn’t think she’s ever been so nervous.

 

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_**B.** _

 

They get the grounders out of the mountain. The smoke bomb Raven made works, and the distraction is enough for the Grounders to over power the armed guard inside the mountain and get out through the tunnels. There are casualties though, and Bellamy tries to ignore the bodies littering the halls as he races for the rendezvous point that he and Clarke decided on. 

 

Bellamy is running for his life, three guards hot on his heels, and he prays to every deity he can think of that his sister got out already. He knows the only chance they’ve got is to close the airlock from the inside before the guard gets there. They can’t leave the mountain, so if he can manage to slide under the doors before they close, he’ll be home free. 

 

Running past a doorway, he skids to a stop when he sees Clarke trying to wrestle a gun away from a guard. He knocks the guy out with the butt of his gun, and pulls Clarke to her feet, struggling with her when she instinctively tries to fight him off.

 

“Clarke! Princess, it’s me! Stop!”

 

“Bellamy!” She breathes, relief lacing her words. 

 

“We have to go, we’re running out of time.”

 

“I ripped my stitches,” she says, “I won’t make it. You need to get out of here and shut the airlock.”

 

Bellamy glares at her, “You’re out of your damn mind if you think I’m going to leave you here,” he growls. “Let’s go.” 

 

Supporting her body, they slowly make their way down the hallway, Bellamy firing shots behind them as the guards catch up to them. “You need to go, right now, and close the doors,” Bellamy tells her, gripping her shoulders. “I need you to make sure Octavia is safe.”

 

Clarke’s eyes are wide. “No. No! Bellamy—“

 

“I’m not asking, princess. Get out of here. I’ll hold them off.”

 

She stares at him, and for once he wishes he could decipher that look in her eyes. He’s seen it before and he could never figure out what it means, but he wishes more than anything that he could figure out what she’s trying to tell him, or find the courage to tell him what he’s thinking himself.

 

“Clarke, go!” He says, both of them ducking as shots come from the other end of the hallway. Pushing her forward, she sends one last look over her shoulder before sliding through the doorway. Bellamy hits the button for the airlock, and waits.

 

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_**C.** _

 

“Clarke, we need to go. It’s getting dark.”

 

Clarke is waiting in the woods just outside the mountain, hoping with every minute that passes that Bellamy will come out. She can’t believe that he’s dead. It doesn’t seem possible. He might be a huge pain in her ass, but she can't deny that he's the one who has been instrumental in keeping them all alive since they crash landed on this godforsaken planet.

 

“Clarke,” Miller tries again, but she ignores him.

 

“I can’t leave him in there. We need a plan, we need to—“

 

“Clarke, he’s probably—“

 

“No!” Clarke interrupts, not wanting to hear the words that she’s already fearing might be true. “No. I can’t… I can’t believe that. I need to make sure. For Octavia.”

 

“Right.” Miller says, but his tone makes it clear he doesn’t believe her. “I’ll give you five minutes.”

 

Clarke waits and waits, and she knows her time is almost up, but she stops pacing when she hears the unmistakable sound of an airlock opening. Aiming the gun she wrestled from a guard, she holds her breath until she can make out a figure approaching. 

 

When the person gets closer, Clarke lets the gun slip out of her hands entirely. “Bellamy,” she breathes, and then she's taking off, running towards him at full speed.  She collides with him in a matter of seconds, and hears his noise of surprise before he reacts, his arms coming around her and holding her tight. 

 

“Clarke,” he whispers, and it sounds so reverent, that she feels like she really has no choice but to pull back slightly before she presses her lips against his, the kiss desperate and full of heat. She knows as soon as she does it that this is where she's supposed to be. She's never felt anything like this before; a spark that travels from the point where their lips meet all the way to her toes. It sounds cliche, she knows it does, but the connection she feels with him now... she thinks it's always been there, simmering under the surface. 

 

Bellamy hauls her tighter against him, and the two of them sway together, their mouths and bodies saying what they haven’t been able to in words. The relief Clarke feels at seeing him again lets her know that the act of falling in love with Bellamy Blake has happened completely without her noticing, so she holds on tighter, hoping he’ll understand.

 

When they finally break apart, he grins at her. “Missed me?” 

 

“You’re an idiot,” she says, but she’s smiling too.

 

“Octavia?”

 

“She’s fine, she’s back at camp with Lincoln.” Clarke says, breathless. 

 

“Good,” is all he says before his mouth is back on hers, his hands trying to reach everywhere at once. 

 

If anyone saw them now, they’d see two people tangled so close together it’s almost impossible to tell where one begins and the other ends. They’d see two people forced to grow up too fast, and forced to survive against all odds. If anyone saw them like this, they’d see a boy who never thought he’d be worth anything, and the girl who thinks he’s _everything_. If they saw them, they’d see that the feeling was absolutely mutual. 

 

“Come on, princess,” Bellamy says when they break apart, his voice raspy with emotion. “Let’s go home.”

 

 _In a million years tell me will they think about us dear_  
Tell me will the star keep shining even when our bodies disappear  
In a million years tell me will they hear about us dear  
Will any of these sparks we light catch a flame and burn through time

 

**End**

 


End file.
